


There Was A Cellist, I Think

by theoneandonlybunny



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, To Be Continued
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:03:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoneandonlybunny/pseuds/theoneandonlybunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Phil/The Cellist drabbles based on the relationship between handlercoulson.tumblr.com (Phil) and the-portland-cellist.tumblr.com (Isabel, the cellist).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Portland Snow and Blanket Woes

Isabel decided that she’d wear her full-length flannel pajamas for the rest of the season. Even with the extra blanket on top, it was still getting much colder than she liked. Granted, it was Portland in November, which meant that they were starting to get the snow that stuck to the ground and contributed to the clogging of the roads, and she’d lived much of her life in places where it regularly received snow, but she did not like the cold. She did not like being exposed to the cold. Above all else, she did not like being cold.

And while her flannels were far from what she’d ever call sexy, Phil would just have to deal with it. She’d bring out the silk nightie again when she could have wet hair again without shivering.

If Phil noticed her reactions to the chill, he didn’t say too much until later that night, when she had approximately 75% of the blankets on her side of the bed. He chuckled, and slid in beside her. She curled into a tight ball at the feeling of the much cooler arm against the skin that was left exposed despite the best efforts of her night clothes. When he’d left on his ‘business trip’, the cold hadn’t been so drastic, so he hadn’t seen her rather spirited reactions to the chill. There was even a well-justified electric blanket on the bed now.

“Not a fan of lower temperatures?”

Isabel grumbled something unintelligible from beneath the pile of sheets, comforter, and over-blankets, and then spoke up. “You could say that.”

His arms pressed her flush against his body, and Isabel loosened at the feeling of his heat and strength. Warmth flooded her core, and then as he breathed gently against her neck, other parts of her anatomy began to heat up as well. She wasn’t the only one.

“I can think of a few ways to keep things toasty.”

Phil’s voice was slightly husky and deep, and Isabel smiled, turning over to face him. He pulled her just as close as he had held her before, and (underneath the covers) her hands slid to tug his pants down. His entire face lit up, and she kissed him as she got the material down past his hips.

“I think I’d be willing to hear whatever ideas you had, darling.”

There was the soft rumble of laugh, and when they did finally sleep that night, Isabel was definitely much warmer than she had been. Phil had an arm thrown around her waist and another next to her cheek and she had both arms in the small space between them. He was warmth and strength and loyalty and even if there were a few things about him that absolutely infuriated her (like his tendency to play the devil’s advocate from time to time, or his long absences), he was quickly becoming her home. And now he _was_ home.

And now she was only taking up 60% of the covers.


	2. I Could Have Danced All Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabel and Phil have a night out, and they dance. This is pure, sweet, fine-spun fluff. This may induce diabetes. You have been warned.

The assignment now stretched into months, due to some things that Phil needed to oversee in places that weren’t the Portland office, and tonight was their first real Date Night since he’d been back. He’d suggested a somewhat-formal restaurant to eat at, and she’d agreed without looking the place up – she more than trusted Phil’s recommendations by now.

Perhaps, if she had, she’d have seen that there was a live band.

The music was fitting in that it was a muted jazz, low and slow and added to the general ambience, and the meal was delicious, but Isabel wasn’t expecting the lead brass man to approach a microphone and announce that that dance floor was open for anyone.

Phil tilted his head to the dance floor, and Isabel shook her head with something of a laugh.

“No. I have absolutely no idea how to dance!”

His eyes lit up as he saw a chance to convince her, and with the way he was looking at her, Isabel knew that it wouldn’t be too long before she gave in anyway.

“No one does to start out. Besides, it’s just following a rhythm. You would know how to do that better than most of the others on the floor, wouldn’t you?”

He had a valid point. She couldn’t excuse herself away with clumsiness, either. They both knew how graceful she was.

“Fine, I’ll dance. But I’ll step on your toes at least once, I know I will, and I apologize in advance.”

Phil chuckled, and he led her out to the floor, where a few other couples were already dancing. The light beat sped up to a fun swing, and there were several laughs between the two of them as the dance led them through dips and twirls. Isabel became very glad she’d worn a dress with a full skirt, and Phil enjoyed the visual as well, but he preferred the way that he cheeks colored as they kept dancing, and the way that warmth lit her eyes, and the shine of her hair under the house lights. All things that added up to one very attractive woman clearly enjoying herself.

And if that wasn’t breathtakingly gorgeous, Phil didn’t know what was.

Isabel, for her part, was rather fond of the weight of his hand on her waist and the quiet, firm strength of his arms when he pulled her against him in the course of the dance. She liked the look of his smile best, though, and tonight it was very much present.

Eventually the dance hour ended, and the couples on the floor were left holding each other and swaying in place to the last song. It was slow and sweet and entirely instrumental, despite it being a crooner’s song.

Phil fixed that by singing along in a soft, clear voice in Isabel’s ear, and the look she gave him as she rested her head on his chest made every bit of teasing he’d gotten as a child worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I own most rights to Isabel's character, if not her faceclaim or her backstory (which were both decided before I picked her up in my group), as I write her.


End file.
